


tea & sympathy

by SOMNlARl



Series: Twitter Prompts [2]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Caretaking, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, I'm not even a little bit sorry, M/M, Sickfic, dorian's a mess, how to be the sweetest boyfriend ever feat. krem aclassi, this is shameless fluff for my fave boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 13:38:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12772209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SOMNlARl/pseuds/SOMNlARl
Summary: dorian's absolutely sure that he's ruined their first christmas together. krem thinks that nothing can ruin their first christmas, not as long as they're together.





	tea & sympathy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Stars_In_His_Eyes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Stars_In_His_Eyes/gifts).



“I’m not parading you around outside with a head-cold, Dorian. _Absolutely not_. Not even if it’s stopped snowing tomorrow and that’s _final_.” Dorian can hear the set of Krem’s jaw in his voice despite Krem being in the next room, puttering around their small kitchenette pouring a fresh mug of tea. 

“It’s _nothing_ , Amatus,” he argues through a sniffle, presses the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“Okay, but it’s  _not_ nothing,” Dorian blinks his eyes open as Krem slides a cool hand across his forehead and into his hair, brushing a few fallen dark waves back from his face. He holds Dorian’s mug out to him and keeps talking, leaving no room for a word in edgewise. “And even if it was nothing I’d think you’d want it to stay nothing instead of turning it into a miserable _something_ so you won’t even enjoy Christmas!”

Dorian frowns a little but accepts the refreshed, newly-warmed mug from Krem and holds it close to his chest. The herbal, minty steam swirls in front of him and he breathes it in with a resigned sigh, lets his eyes slide shut as the warm, moist air works its way through his sinuses.

Krem’s _right_ , of course he is, but despite believing it his stomach sinks and his chin starts to dimple. He knows it’s not his fault, not really, nothing he can do about a cold. But this, a late Christmas Eve walk together through their new neighborhood to see the decorations and lights - something Krem had said he’d always done with his family - was the only thing Krem had asked for them to do and _blast,_ he’d been looking forward to it too. So of course Dorian had woken up shivery with a raw throat and the start of a headache which had only progressed since then and ruined _everything_.

“I _wanted_ to go. I really did,” he says plaintively, almost on the verge of tears. He's not sure if Krem can hear him between the noise of the dishwasher running and his hoarse voice. He doesn’t think it shakes too much. “I didn’t - I _never_ \- want to disappoint you. I'm _sorry_.”

“I know you did,” Krem calls from the hallway before bustling back in with another blanket which he spreads across Dorian’s lap. It’s warm, fresh out of the dryer and he burrows further under it unconsciously as Krem kisses his cheek. “And you never do disappoint me, _carissimus_. There’ll be other years.”

Dorian nods as he rubs at his throat with two hooked fingers, trying to coax his voice back into existence. Krem shucks his jeans, letting them pool on the floor and slides into bed next to him. He hands Dorian a small cup of viscous red liquid, Dorian scrunches his nose but knocks it back.

“I hate this,” he complains into the side of Krem’s chest, coughs a little. Krem chuckles and loops an arm around his shoulder, hand starting to thread purposefully through his hair.

“Oh, love... I know,” Krem murmurs, voice pitched soft and low. Krem’s hand pauses, still tangled in his hair, and Dorian bumps his head lightly against his palm, missing the touch. Krem gets the hint, starts again to lazily twist strand after strand between nimble fingers and Dorian hums contentedly. Finally warm, his eyes start to flutter closed again and he lets them; he’s safe here.

“Well,” he mumbles, already starting to drift into the pull of sleep; the cough syrup was strong. “Not _this_.” 

Krem chuckles again, rearranges them so Dorian’s head is tucked into the curve of his shoulder, presses a kiss into his hair. “I know that too.”

Krem keeps talking to him, softly, slowly. Dorian’s suddenly too exhausted to focus on what he's saying but Krem's soft lilt is comforting and he lets the words blur into nothing but a soft rumble of background noise. He curls his fingers into Krem’s shirt and moments later he’s fallen asleep.

 

* * *

 

Dorian suspects it might have taken some sort of divine intervention but he sleeps through the night, the sun’s been up a few hours by the time he blinks back into consciousness. Sitting up makes his head pound and leaves him dizzy but while he doesn’t feel any better than he had yesterday he doesn’t feel any worse either. It's a small blessing. Maybe he’s being spared. 

Krem’s side of the bed is empty but Dorian can hear shower water running in the bathroom. He’d be back. There’s a blister packet of fever reducers on his bedside table and he swallows them with a sip of water from the bottle left next to them. 

The notifications light on his phone is blinking insistently and the screen wakes to a text from Krem. A _video_ _text_ from Krem.

“‘Morning, babe!” Krem waves into the camera, his nose already pink with cold. The sun’s just starting to come up behind him. His breath hangs in the air in soft, white puffs and Dorian shivers sympathetically.

“ _Hopefully_ this is going to work and you’re watching this hours from now. Please don’t tell me if I woke you leaving at _arse o’clock_ in the morning, I’d never forgive myself,” Krem’s voice narrates dramatically from off-screen, camera pointing down at the scuffed toes of his boots as he jogs through the snow.

“I thought,” Krem swears suddenly from the background and the screen shakes violently. Dorian’s worried for a moment before Krem’s face flashes into focus, he’s grinning. He shoots Dorian a thumbs up before focusing on a tree branch heavy with fresh snow. “Sorry love, tripped. I thought that since you can’t come see the lights with me this year, I’d bring them to you!”

Dorian bites the inside of his cheek to try to keep from smiling, blinks back the swell of heat prickling behind his eyes. _He didn’t deserve this_. Krem’s walking down their street now, stopping to show off Lace’s balcony twinkling with fairy lights and glass ornaments hanging among them. Krem lingers near the Chargers’ communal house, taking a moment to recover and catch his breath after the display of x-rated snow people has him doubled over laughing. Laughing makes his throat ache but Dorian thinks their effort earned it.

“And _that_ is an… ice caduceus? I think? Stitches outdid himself this year.” Dorian finds himself nodding in agreement. The EMT had clearly missed his true calling. Sera and Tally had made anatomically accurate (read: breasted) snow angels, instead of light-strung wire reindeer Cullen had mabari, each with a red ribbon tied in the place of a collar. Cassandra’s snowman was conventional with a carrot nose but it did have a large, lovingly sculpted and very detailed sword.

“You’d _hate_ it out here, love. Bloody _freezing._ Almost envy you, having an excuse to stay in,” Krem whines a little though his voice is tender as he blows on his fingertips then chafes his hands together. Dorian wishes he was there, could pull Krem into his arms, fold Krem’s hands into his own and hold him until they were both warm again. He hates that he isn’t. _You ruined everything_ , he reminds himself bitterly, shame thick in his mouth. _Just like you always do_. 

“I know what you’re thinking, you want to apologize. Don’t. It’s not your fault and I know you know that but… I know how you are, _carissimus_.” Krem’s face pops into the frame again and he’s laughing silently, the corners of his eyes crinkled so tight with smiling they’re nearly shut. Something clenches in Dorian’s chest, he hates that he’s not there to see that smile in person. “I… uh. I just kind of made this up, this whole walk thing. It wasn’t an old family tradition. I don’t give a toss.”

Krem laughs again, a little nervously this time. With the next breath of cold air he coughs a little into his shoulder. “You just kept asking me for an idea and I guess it was the first thing I could think of and it _sounded_ nice but uh. I just ever wanted Christmas with you, I don’t care about the details.”

A rush of warmth fills him that has nothing to do with the fever. He doesn’t care either, Dorian realizes with a quiet, sad sigh. None of the details, all of the plans ruined by his immune system’s failure mattered. Suddenly their bedroom with just him in it feels too big and empty. He doesn't want to be alone anymore. He just wants Krem. 

Krem’s voice continues, muffled from where his phone is clutched against his chest. “But I do want a do-over next year, to pick something else! Something inside. Holy _balls_ it’s cold out here, this was a horrible idea! I love you and I swore I wasn’t going to cut this short but I’m coming home.” 

Dorian looks back at the screen just in time to see Krem glaring. “And if I get home and you’re awake and haven’t taken that medicine I’m going to… well, I don’t know what exactly but I’ll do something you won’t like!”

"Take care of yourself, alright?" Krem's face softens, falls a little. The next words are breathed out so quietly they're almost not picked up on recording. "Hate seeing you like this."

_Oh_ , he whispers softly to himself.  _Oh._ Dorian sniffs back a sudden tear, presses a knuckle to his mouth as he sets his phone down gently. A wave of fatigue washes over him and he curls up a little smaller under the blankets, hopes Krem will be out of the shower soon.

He’s a few breaths from sleep when the bedroom door clicks softly open, Krem pads so softly across the carpet Dorian thinks he imagined it until the mattress dips next to him. Without opening his eyes his hand finds Krem’s. Krem moves Dorian’s head into his lap and strokes his hair. 

“Merry Christmas, love,” Krem murmurs.

It wasn’t what he’d imagined or tried to plan for them but with his head pillowed in the warmth of Krem’s lap and Krem’s hand soothing him back to sleep as more snow piles up outside Dorian has to agree. _Merry Christmas, indeed._

**Author's Note:**

> my darlingest qpp wes wanted _we were going to go walking around the neighborhood to see all the pretty lights but you woke up feeling a bit under the weather and not up to being outside in the snow so i snuck out early this morning and made a video of them all for you so you didn’t have to miss out_ off my winter fluff prompts list for krem  & dorian and what wes wants, wes gets. i've been meaning to write a krem/dorian prompt for, oh, the last two years but... better late than never, i suppose!
> 
> if you enjoyed this you can find me at [hiissingwastes on tumblr](http://hiissingwastes.tumblr.com) or [aItuspavus on twitter](http://twitter.com/aItuspavus)!


End file.
